


Once and Future

by Stephquiem



Series: Going Back [8]
Category: Animorphs (TV), Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everworld, F/M, Fix-It, Self-Insert, a family can be a teenager a parasite and a robot, mutually pining idiots, ride or die shorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-06-30 08:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19849801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stephquiem/pseuds/Stephquiem
Summary: As Jake and his family deal with the death of Grandpa G, some new possibilities present themselves--possibilities that could completely change the future.Takes place during #31The Conspiracy.





	1. Search for Senna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 90% self-indulgence, 10% plot, 100% I wanted to write these two idiots being idiots together before I jumped into the serious stuff.

**_Steph_ **

Priton was being very weird.

By now, I'd kind of accepted, by necessity, that I was only ever going to know what Priton was thinking about half the time. I might be unobservant, or he might be really good at blocking me out, or maybe it was a little of both. Either way, by now I'd learned that, eventually, Priton would either get over whatever was on his mind, or he'd tell me about it, or it would come out some other way. Sometimes just letting whatever it was run its course was the path of least exhaustion. 

That usually worked, anyway. Except that he'd been more than usually weird--and closed off--for awhile now. A couple months. And he was so obviously up to something that I don't think it even counted as him trying to hide it. I'd gotten up after my fever finally broke to find that Aftran was living in Priton's pool now. Not that I was particularly complaining, but...

<Don't worry about it,> Priton had said. As if that wasn't the surest way to make me worry. <Would it kill you to trust me?>

<I don't know. Probably.>

Priton had just sighed at that.

We were at the library that afternoon. In itself, this wasn't such an odd thing. We no longer spent every waking moment there, but we were still fairly frequent visitors to the library. When we entered, Priton dropped the books we'd brought with us in the return slot and then headed farther in, making an immediate beeline for the teen section. I didn't comment, even though it was pretty rare for him to take keep hold of the reigns here. For an alien who had an unhealthy affinity for humanity, Priton's interest in things like books seemed to be next to nil except for things he could pick up through osmosis. Or philosophy. Still, every now and then, Priton would be on some kind of mission to find _something._

Usually, it happened when he was feeling guilty about something.

We'd stopped in front of one of the book carousels, and Priton was spinning it and scanning the book spines before moving on to the next one. By the time we got to the third carousel, I couldn't stand it anymore. <Looking for something?>

<What's that book. With the Chicago kids and the witch girl and the guy who pissed his pants.>

<I... literally have no idea what you're talking about. I don't think I _want_ to know.>

<No, you know.> Priton gestured in the air, as if the title was hanging there in front of him for him to grasp on to. If I did know it, I don't know why he couldn't just find the answer in my brain. Maybe it was like trying to use a search engine to find something when you can only remember a few details yourself. <It had ancient gods and stuff in it.>

<... _Everworld? > _I asked, incredulous. <Are you talking about _Everworld_?>

<Yeah, that's it!>

I was at a loss for words. There was something... mind-bogglingly weird about having this conversation. Here. In this context. With a Yeerk. You'd think nothing would phase me at this point, but leave it to Priton to make my already weird life just a little stranger. < _Why_ would you describe it like that?>

Priton shrugged. <Hey, those are the key points _you_ remember.>

I felt like I was getting a headache. <Okay. Sure. Whatever. Why are you looking for it exactly?>

Priton straightened up. He'd been hunched over, looking at the lower shelves of the last carousel. <We're almost at the right point, aren't we? At...> He paused, a second too long. <At the Grandpa G stuff.>

At the _Tom_ stuff is what he meant. I didn't want to think about it. Maybe he didn't either. <Yeah,> I said. <So?>

<So, didn't all that stuff happen concurrently?> Priton turned away from the carousels, now walking toward the next row of shelves. <Weird thing to remember, you know.>

<Shut up.> Like obsessive knowledge wasn't why I was there in the first place. <We don't even know those guys exist in this universe, let alone that they'd write the same things,> I said, reasonably. And then, because I couldn't help myself, <And anyway, it's not even the right year. Or month.>

I could feel my face strain as Priton tried not to smile. <Uh-huh.>

<Why are you so interested in finding it anyway? You don't even like fantasy. Or reading.>

Again, Priton took a little too long to answer. <Birthday present?>

It was, of course, nowhere near my birthday, but I let it slide. There was an old joke in there somewhere. <I know you know when my birthday is, asshole.>

<Hey, you're the one who's good with dates, not me.>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, the joke is I'm pretty sure I got Animorphs #31, Everworld #1 and Everworld #2 for my 11th birthday. Also, fun Steph fact: #31 was the first Animorphs book I ever got to discuss with other Animorphs fans on the internet. It holds a special place in my fangirl heart. 
> 
> Re: Priton liking Phliosophy: I don't think this occurred to me until I was writing [People Like Us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8913334/chapters/20419069), but Priton's a surprisingly philosophical dude. Surprising to me, his creator, who you'd think would know these things. Writing this iteration has revealed a lot of Priton's surprise academic interests. Philosophy, Ethics, Poli Sci. History, despite what he claims. 
> 
> I would also like to apologize for the pun that is this chapter's title. I couldn't help myself. Also it's a good thing GB!Steph isn't very good at literary analysis, or she might find books that are thematically relevant to her life--what with also being a universe-hopping teenager and all--popping up in her life to be a bad omen. Also probably a good thing that she never finished _Everworld._ On that note, I've managed to reference both _Everworld_ and _Gone_ so far--can I achieve the Trifecta of Applegate/Grant and work in _Remnants_ somewhere? We'll see!


	2. Solution

It was like we'd entered the bizarro realm.

Things _looked_ normal enough--by Animorph standards, anyway. Five humans, a red-tailed hawk and an Andalite, gathered together in the barn. But there were also two Yeerks present. There was a part of me still found that oddly surreal--two Yeerks, present and contributing members of the team. 

I guess Priton was inarguably a part of things, and had been for a long time now, but now Aftran was here, too. It was Priton who'd suggested--in that "you should really do what I say" kind of way of his--that Aftran be included in our meetings. We could use her insight, and it was probably helpful to have an in with the Yeerk Peace Movement--albeit, more helpful to _them_ than to _us_ in the long run but whatever. We were in the business of tying up loose ends now, I guess. And anyway, it gave Aftran something to do besides hang out forever in the portable pool. It's not like there were a lot of other options.

We didn't mention the possibilty of Aftran becoming a _nothlit_. 

Priton asked Cassie if she'd mind--because she and Aftran were friends, and because I think she was the only one who wouldn't be offended. At any rate, Cassie said okay, and so now, when possible, our meetings now included Aftran, in Cassie and it was undeniably weird. 

Sometimes I wonder how long it will be before the future is so changed it becomes unrecognizable. Sometimes that thought scares me.

It was late. We were all in the barn after Marco and Jake interrupted the Sharing meeting that could have ended in Jake's dad being taken. Priton and I were oddly tense. I didn't know what was going on in Priton's mind, but all I could think about was how badly this was all going to end. How it seemingly foreshadowed the future. We'd spent the earlier part of the evening listening to Erek's half of his conversation with Jake and Marco and then pacing uneasily around the house until it was time to meet up with the others.

Probably, we could have gone straight to the Sharing meeting to act as back-up. Maybe we could have helped somehow. Maybe found a less risky temporary solution, if there even was one.

<If we stopped them from doing every stupid thing, we'd never get any rest,> Priton had pointed out, somewhat uncharitably. 

The others talked. Priton stayed mostly quiet. That wasn't that unusual. Most things didn't need interfering with, and it was hard to not see our input as anything but interference most of the time. But then I realized Cassie--Aftran--wasn't saying anything either. We were standing across from each other, and though Priton wasn't looking directly at her, I could still see that Aftran was staring at us.

As Rachel raised the real crux of everything--that Tom could just kill his dad to solve all his problems--Priton finally looked up from the spot he’d been staring at on the floor. 

“There is an alternative solution.” The others turned to look at us. "I have a portable Yeerk pool. We just need to get it to him. Problem solved." He was looking at Jake now. Jake's forehead creased with a thoughtful frown. 

<Wouldn't he notice there's another Yeerk living in it?> Tobias asked.

Priton shrugged. "So we stash Aftran somewhere for a few days. We've got the Chee who can jerry-rig a kandrona if we need it. We've got options." He looked pointedly at Aftran, who was nodding along like this was a thing they'd already discussed.

<What are you doing?>

<Helping.> To the others, Priton said, "If Tom's got a kandrona source, it won't matter how long you're gone for. He won't need to infest your dad. And _nobody has to die."_ He crossed my arms over my chest. It was only then that I noticed we were shaking. 

We were all looking at Jake now. "Wouldn't someone notice he's bringing a big, alien kiddie pool along?"

"Not necessarily," Marco said. "They look like a big briefcase when they're all closed up. Someone might wonder why he looks like he's going to his nine to five at the office instead."

"I'm sure he can figure out something to tell them. He's not a complete idiot," Priton said, with surprising bitterness. "But there's something else. Those pools don't have a ton of security--they're meant to be single use and are mostly used by high-ranking Yeerks who want or need an isolated feeding."

<And asshole traitors with friends on the inside,> I added, jokingly. I was hoping it would make him relax--he was holding us _very_ tightly. It felt like my body was wavering on the edge of an anxiety attack and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. At any rate, my attempt at humor didn't ease any of that tension.

"Mine has less security than most," Priton continued, without acknowledging me. "It's got a clamp to hold down the host. And two releases. One on the inside that the Yeerk activates when they're ready to leave. And an emergency release on the outside that the host can't get to if they're strapped in, but someone else theoretically _could_ if they know how to work it."

There was a brief, silent moment before we got it.

Oh. _Oh._ Jesus.

"We could free Tom," Jake said.

"Yes."

In retrospect, it probably should have bothered me that it was Priton who figured out the solution. It was supposed to be why I was there in the first place. That in two years, I'd come no closer to figuring out what I should do. But then again, without Priton, this solution wouldn't have existed anyway, so I don't know. It seems kind of dumb to be mad that a story isn't all about you.

"Hang on a second," Marco interjected. "As nice as freeing Tom sounds, that's just going to get back us back to square one. If Tom's suddenly walking around free and his Yeerk goes missing, somebody's going to notice. No offense," he directed this part at Aftran, "but I get the feeling it'd be a bigger deal than a little girl controller suddenly falling off their radar."

"He doesn't have to disappear."

Aftran stepped forward. She was holding Cassie's hands clasped in front of her. "We could use a spy on his level. If we had a Yeerk who was loyal to our cause--our _causes,_ to freedom for humans _and_ Yeerks--it could help us."

<The Yeerk is not likely to agree to that arrangement,> Ax pointed out.

"Well, no," Aftran agreed. "But it's not that hard to impersonate a fellow Yeerk."

Later, I would find out that that wasn't really true. It was actually _very_ hard to impersonate another Yeerk if you were trying to do so hostless. But none of the rest of us knew that. And there were ways around it, or I guess it wouldn't have even been a suggestion.

"Is he that highly ranked?" Jake asked. He sounded a little dazed, but you could hear the edge of excitement. 

Priton shrugged. "He's an ambitious son of a bitch," he said simply. Truth, but without the nebulous details that were still, at this point, up in the air. And with Priton's trademark "subtlety."

"Tom might not want this."

"Probably not," Priton allowed. "Then we'll think of something else. We're not in the business of forcing people to do anything," he added. "You know. Anymore. We're retired."

No one laughed at that.

After a moment of awkward silence, Marco asked, "So how are we getting this thing to him anyway?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Operation: Save Tom has gone through a few different iterations over the years. It's been an unfortunate victim of my tendency to overcomplicate things. General rule of thumb is if it's a long-time plot point, it's probably been simplified half a dozen times before it got to its current (probably still too complicated) state. The notable exception to this seems to be Priton/GB!Steph's relationship, which only gets more complicated every time I examine it. Could it be simplified? Probably. Would that mean sacrificing some of my favorite bits in the whole of Going Back? Yeah, probably. Complicated it is, then.
> 
> As for Tom, though, the problem has always been "okay they save him--now what?" For years--like a decade--I put it at the end of the series. That doesn't really work, because a) that's cutting things real close with no margin for error and b) ...I mean, I sideline the main point of this fic a lot already, I don't have to be quite so blatant about it, you know?


	3. Bittersweet

Erek grumbled about having to create an energy source practically out of thin air on short notice, but he still did it. Our "best" option for a temporary Yeerk pool turned out to be one of those Rubbermaid containers that people use to store things like out-of-season clothes or whatever. After Priton asked him, Erek had gone out and come back with the container and an assortment of electronics that had since been deconstructed until they were completely unrecognizable.

I asked Erek once if the local Radio Shack was actually run by aliens, and he just gave me a funny look before saying, "Not that I know of, why?"

We had to work fast--we had a day before Jake's family was set to leave. Making our hackneyed kandrona took time--not exactly three days, but still precious time we needed to put things in motion. It would have been easier if we could have just sent Erek to deliver the portable pool. They knew each other, there was less chance of Erek fucking it up by saying the wrong thing. But we needed another kandrona and, although another Chee probably had the know-how to make one, Priton said he'd rather trust his food source for the next four days to someone who had the experience.

I thought, maybe, his anxiety was over the uncertainty of the makeshift pool. It was a very Priton-like thing to worry about, after all. There was precedent.

Morphing would have taken more time that we didn't have--and even if I didn't agree that there was something wrong with morphing sentient beings, I was still kind of squicked out by the idea of morphing _this particular sentient being--_ so we brought Mr. King with us. He was our ride--Priton knew how to drive, but for some reason he never wanted to--and he was our camouflage. 

"Is something wrong?" Mr. King asked as we left the car. We'd parked a few houses down from Jake's. Mr. King had extended his hologram to include us, so the air around us had taken on that odd, slightly shimmery quality that it did when you were hiding behind another image. 

Priton was grimacing at the borrowed reflection of Hedrick Chapman in the side mirror of Mr. King's car. He ran a hand over my hair--dark, curly, pulled back in a pony-tail--and the mirrored hologram image Chapman ran a hand over his hair--thinner, lighter brown with some grey, not quite enough of it to hide the bald spot--and made an exaggeratedly disgusted face. Maybe we don't morph humans because it feels _really_ freaking weird. "No," he said to Mr. King. "I just can't see that face and not think of it as my boss."

<I thought he was still at the middle school when you were teaching.>

<Different job.>

<Oh.>

Priton started for the Berensons' front door, portable pool in hand and Mr. King following to provide our cover. 

We didn't see much of Tom, a fact for which I was honestly grateful. To some degree, it was easier to forget, temporarily, the future that was coming when we were around Rachel. We saw her so frequently we could be desensitized to it. Sort of. Sometimes you're so mixed up in trying to survive the present that you don't think about the future. Until you do. Until you're reminded again. The most recent reminder had been when we were dealing with Visser Four and the Time Matrix. It hadn't been when Rachel had temporarily died--blown apart by a cannon right in front of all of us during the Battle of Trafalgar. It had been after, when she'd appeared, apparently unscathed, and everyone had been surprised--happily surprised--and Tobias had kissed her--which had surprised _me--_ and it was easy to remember, again, what stood to be lost.

It's not really that we forget. It's that if you think about too much, it'll drive you insane. It dictates every interaction you have with the people who ought to be your friends, your comrades-in-arms.

It was harder to be desensitized to Tom. He was now, as he had always been, that unknowable tragic figure, who ironically might not have been doomed if his little brother hadn't joined the resistance in order to save him. Or not. There really wasn't a way to know.

Priton paused before the front steps, staring up at the house for several seconds too long.

"Priton?" Mr. King asked, his tone politely prodding.

My head shook, as if to clear it, and Priton said, rather unconvincingly, "Just gathering my thoughts. Come on."

We rang the bell. After a minute that seemed to stretch out impossibly long, the door opened, and Tom stood in the doorway, his expression confused, but not suspicious.

"Mr. Chapman?" Tom glanced over his shoulder into the house, then back at us. "What are you doing here?"

"I brought you this," Priton said. Our voice was odd. I could hear my own voice, as it usually sounded, but I could also hear, at the same time, the voice Mr. King was projecting through the hologram. Priton held out the heavy, briefcase-like object in my hand. "If it isn't possible to infest your host's father, it's the only solution to keep your cover." Priton smiled and it felt brittle, like something that could snap too easily. Hopefully the expression Mr. King gave us was more subtle than that. "You won't be much good to the Empire if you go to prison for murder, will you?" 

Tom looked down at the case without taking it, his brow furrowing in an expression that looked uncomfortably like the one Jake had worn when Priton and Aftran had presented the idea to him only hours earlier. "Where did it come from?"

"The supply in the main pool," Priton said. This wasn't technically a lie--Erek had stolen it originally from an office down in the Yeerk pool's huge cavern. "For high-ranking Yeerks and those with potential--and who can be trusted not to muck up that potential," he added pointedly.

Tom's expression cleared. "Of course. Thank you, sir." And then his hand was reaching out. He was taking the pool from us.

My hand lingered, as if making sure Tom had it securely, then dropped back to my side.

When we were on the way back to the car, I asked Priton, <Will he notice the kandrona's been messed with?>

<Doubtful. A normal one's locked up in a metal box. Ours is still in a metal box. He'll only notice if he's stupid enough to get the box open. Assuming he knows what it's supposed to look like in the first place, anyway.>

* * *

<What if he doesn’t come out?>

We were perched in a tree near the cabin, in owl morph, waiting. Tobias was perched somewhere along the tree line near the lake, ready to give us back up if we needed it. 

<He has to come out,> Priton said. <Can't risk feeding in the house, somebody'd definitely notice _that_. Saving himself’s a lot less complicated than murder.>

<Why would you put it that way? What kind of person would put it that way?>

<I’m not a human,> Priton said, as if that made a difference. 

<I’ve noticed.>

<Hmm.>

< _ What? _ > It came out sounding testier than it should have. I was on edge-- _Priton_ was putting me on edge--and falling into an argument would have been so easy. 

<Someone’s moving around inside,> Priton said, this time broadcasting his thought-speech so that Tobias could hear. It sounded like my “voice,” a fact that was somehow so much harder to get used to in morph.

After a minute or two, the cabin’s door opened, and we saw Tom slip outside, the familiar shape of PYP banging against his leg as he squeezed through the door as silently as possible.

When Tom was about half way between us and Tobias, Priton unfurled my wings and took off, gliding along on the night air to bring up the rear of our strange procession.

<Jake, we’re moving,> he called out. Jake couldn’t respond, of course. 

Tom stopped well into the trees. He turned to look behind him, toward the cabin, as if checking that no one had followed. Priton perched in a tree a few yards ahead. I don’t know where Tobias was. Priton was focusing my eyes on Tom.

We watched Tom fiddle with the briefcase for a minute until he found the latch that made it spring open. He moved back, as if expecting it to be booby-trapped, but nothing happened. There was just the pool, looking like a stainless steel jacuzzi, with an innocent-seeming box fastened to one side, and a decidedly less innocent head restraint on the other.

We watched as Tom knelt beside the pool and positioned his head inside the clamp. A moment later we heard a whirring sound as it closed around his neck.

We knew when the Yeerk was out, because Tom’s body suddenly went rigid like he was straining against his bonds. I saw his body jerk, like he was trying to pull his head out, through the clamp.

<Good boy,> I said.

<Stupid boy,> Priton returned. And with that, he opened my wings again, this time fluttering to the ground. We made more noise landing than we did flying, but it didn’t matter now. Soon we were shooting up in height, becoming more girl than owl. When we’d finished demorphing, my bare feet did little to muffle the sound as Priton approached Tom.

I saw him still, aware now that someone else was here. He stared at us, unrecognizing, as Priton crossed in front of him. Priton pressed a finger to my lips, and then reached into the pool to grab the tiny, grey slug.

It was grossly simple. If so much didn’t hinge on this, I could have laughed. We were throwing everything off its axis, rewriting history--literally--and it was all over so quickly.

Tom was only, what, eighteen? And just that moment, he was the most important human in the universe.

Priton released the clamp. We heard the whirring noise again, and then it slid open and, slowly, Tom sat up.

Priton took a cautious step back, letting him get his bearings.

Tom, stayed on his knees, breathing like he’d just run a mile, and staring up at us. Priton kept our expression neutral. “Who are you?” Tom finally croaked, voice rusty from disuse.

“Priton Six-Two-Four,” Priton said, without hesitation. “And Steph.”

Tom stared at us for a moment longer. I wondered if he was having a hard time processing things. “Are you… peace movement?”

“No,” Priton said, again without missing a beat. Then he hesitated before saying, “We answer to a different authority.” Then, turning my head as if to call behind us, “Jake?”

An owl dropped from trees, only a few feet away. As Jake began to demorph, Priton turned away. Instead, he let the Yeerk in my hand slide back into the pool and then he set about repacking everything.

<What will happen to him?> I asked as Priton fit the PYP back in its case.

<I’m sure Tom has some ideas.>

“All this time--” Tom was saying. “The Yeerks have no idea.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” Priton said, rising now, heavy briefcase in hand. When he turned to face them, Jake and Tom were holding each other at arm’s length, like they needed to re-memorize what the other looked like. Priton cleared my throat. "Here," he said, holding the case out to Tom, who stared at it blankly. With surprising patience, Priton said, "Someone might notice if you came with a giant briefcase and then left without it." When Tom finally took it from us, Priton turned to Jake. "If you guys are good, we'll see you in a couple days. We can, uh, talk about what's next when you're back in civilization."

"Yeah. Okay." Jake looked like he might want to say something else, in the end, he just said, "Thank you, Priton. Really."

Priton nodded. Then we watched them head back to the house.

<You okay?>

Priton turned to look up. You could just make out the shape of a hawk in the branches above us. "Of course I am," he said.

<It's just you look kind of...> Tobias paused, then said, <I don't know. Ready to make the long trip home?>

"Yeah. Let's get out of here."

* * *

It's kind of tragically funny, when you think about it. How easy it actually was. That in the space of one night we saved, at least, two people's lives, and halted the domino effect those losses would have. Not that this decision wouldn't have its own effects, and not that we didn't expect it to some degree. Every action has its reactions. That's how the universe--any universe--works.

Save two lives. Irrevocably ruin two more. It probably balances out somewhere.

The best way, probably to determine if something is worth the price that's paid for it is to ask one simple question: If, knowing what you know afterwards, you were given the chance to go back and do it all again, would you still make the same decisions, take the same actions?

Yes. Probably. Ask me in ten years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Priton conveniently "forgets" to mention that he knows how to drive to the other Animorphs whenever driving comes up and Marco, inevitably, takes the wheel. There is a very good reason for this. He thinks it's funny. That's really it. Sometimes character motivation is deep and nuanced. Sometimes it's just "for the lols." 
> 
> Part of this chapter--specifically, the part where Tom is freed--was written back in 2017. It's been a long time since I've gotten to use anything I prewrote for this. The last time was Chapter 5 of Falling Up. The farther along I go, the more outdated my prewritten stuff becomes, so I'm kind of surprised anything still works at this stage.


	4. Love

We were expecting the pool to come back empty. It didn't.

We were standing in our kitchen--Jake, Tom, us, Erek. Priton had remembered, almost too late, that someone should warn Tom about Erek. To be fair, there was a lot to talk about.

"Don't freak out," Priton had said to Tom when he and Jake appeared at our door. "He's a friend." It would have been funny if everything didn't feel so terribly serious.

On the kitchen table were the two Yeerk pools--the portable one Priton had been using for over a year now, and the makeshift container that Aftran was still swimming in. Inside both, you could see shapes moving under the murky sludge. Priton didn't say anything, but still my head cocked to the side, in very much a _what is this?_ kind of gesture.

"We thought we could use him," Jake said. "You know, for Intel. You and Aftran said we could use someone on the inside, with his position and knowledge."

"True," Priton said, nodding. "Be easier to pass another Yeerk off as him if we actually knew what we were doing." He laughed a little, though it sounded wrong for some reason to my ears. "I don't even know his name."

Tom opened his mouth to speak--

"I'm really not interested in knowing." He said it so matter-of-fact, you could almost swear he wasn't trying to be rude. Maybe he really wasn't. It got hard to tell with Priton.

"Is there a way to get information out of him?" Jake asked. "I mean, it'd be pretty hard to interrogate him, but..."

Priton made a thoughtful noise. He was staring down at the portable pool on the table contemplatively. "There are, they've just got varying degrees of effectiveness. Yeerk communication is... superficially mind read-y, you could say, but it's not like being in a host's brain. He can just hide what he doesn't want you to know." Priton shrugged. "Of course, there's always torture. The vissers get some mileage out of that. But I don't really know how to do that short of starving him into desperation--and we're flat out not doing _that._ I'm not real well-versed in torture," he said mildly. "Don't really want to be."

"So you think this is a bad idea."

"Didn't say that," Priton said. "I'm just saying it's going to be hard to get what you want without also killing your information source."

Erek cleared his throat suddenly. Or, well, he made a noise like clearing his throat, anyway. We turned to look at him. "I could extract information from him." Erek turned to Tom as he explained, "I have a compartment specifically built to hold a Yeerk captive. It allows me to pass as a Controller. I can take information from him without giving any in return. He would have no control and no sensory input, but we could use him."

"Just killing him would be a hell of a lot kinder," Priton muttered. 

"I don't want to be kind to him," Tom said. There was something off about the way he spoke--really, everything about him--that I couldn't put my finger on. His words were a little too deadpan, a little too devoid of any emotions you'd expect to be there.

Priton didn't say anything, just inclined my head in acknowledgment. Couldn't really blame him. Instead, Priton turned to Erek and asked, "Can you hold two Yeerks at once?"

Erek hesitated, and then said, "No. There's not enough room."

"Lucky we have an extra pool now, then," Priton said, casually, but I could feel that he was oddly pleased with himself. "Speaking of which..."

We were all looking at Tom now. He was staring at the table, at the two makeshift pools with their two vastly different Yeerks, his expression unreadable. Finally, slowly, he said, "I don't want another Yeerk."

"No one here's going to make you do anything you don't want to do," Priton said, with that weird, patient gentleness that I forget he's capable of sometimes. "We can figure something else out. This is only our _easiest_ option--it's not the _only_ one." The other option, of course, was to hide Tom--we couldn't send him out uninfested, but now that we'd made the choice to save him, we had to deal with whatever the consequences were--for Tom, for the Berensons as a whole, for Aftran, if Tom was willing.

"I'm not saying no," Tom said. "I just... I need to think about it."

"Sure." Priton held up my hands and took a step back, as if giving him space. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Erek move back too, while Jake stayed by his brother's side. "We understand. And, for what it's worth, _Aftran_ would understand."

Tom didn't respond right away. Priton backed up some more, intending, I think, to leave him to it. But then Tom looked up at us. "Priton, right?" Priton nodded. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure."

"Why would a Yeerk work with the 'Andalite Bandits'?"

I half-expected him not to answer--or to give his usual answer-that-wasn't-really-an-answer, maybe. And Priton did stand there for a moment too long, like he was debating it with himself. Finally, he said, "Sometimes you do stupid things for the people you love."

Jake turned and stared at us, his brow furrowed. Erek, who had also been discretely retreating from the kitchen, stopped and raised his eyebrows until he looked almost comically shocked.

<Holy shit.>

It's not like it was a shocking revelation--well, maybe to Jake and Erek, who didn't know the finer details of Priton's life _before_ \--but still. If Priton had ever said anything like that aloud before, it hadn't been with me. Somewhere, Hell was almost certainly freezing over and pigs were taking flight.

My mouth twisted into a grimace. "Shut up," Priton said, to no one in particular. Then he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

I don't know how much later they came to us. All I know is Priton went up to our room and laid in bed, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, not talking to me until I gave up trying. Maybe now that we'd had this victory--no matter how it turned out--this feeling like there was a shadow following us would fade. Maybe things wouldn't be so weird. Maybe. The longer we lay there, the more I started to get the uncomfortable, inexplicable sense that there was an axe hovering above our head.

I wish Priton had said something. I really, really wish he had said something.

Eventually, there was a knock on the door. "Come in," Priton called, pushing us up onto my elbows.

The door opened, and Tom stood in our doorway. Sort of. I realized, suddenly, what had been so wrong before. Before, Tom's face had been distressingly expressionless, like all the muscles had atrophied except the ones that allowed him to speak, and even then it was slow and without the right inflection. I'd only seen him a couple times before, had only heard him speak maybe once before yesterday, and then it hadn't been him, anyway. But now, his face appeared in our doorway, relaxed in that way that wasn't like it had forgotten how to move, but like it was just queued up and ready for whatever it was called on to emote next.

"Priton," Tom's voice said. His face screwed up into something that might have been concern.

"Aftran," Priton greeted. Not a question. It had to be.

His--her--no, _their_ hand was clutching the doorknob still, and they stood, half-in and half-out of our room, looking unsure. "We're, uh, we're going to get going."

"Good luck," Priton said. And then, almost like a benediction, "Be good."

Aftran huffed a little laugh. "Yeah. Thanks. We'll see you." 

Then the door closed, and Priton sank back down into the mattress and my eyes turned back to the ceiling.

<P?>

But he didn't say a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of my ex-Involuntary headcanons are as they show up in [Brain Trust](https://archiveofourown.org/series/732855). And they are all, perhaps unsurprsingly, directly influenced by SoloMoon's [Eleutherophobia](https://archiveofourown.org/series/151619) series.
> 
> Sometimes it occurs to me that the mixture of Priton's (surprisingly) high empathy and his "the ends justify the means" outlook would have actually made him very good at his Empire job--if he'd wanted to be good at it, that is. Instead he was just good enough at it to fly under the radar. 
> 
> I'm sure we'll be seeing Tom and Aftran later, but our attention's going elsewhere for a bit.


	5. Return

I read this book, right before the Ellimist came and turned my whole life inside out, where the world was ending--an asteroid or something was going to hit the Earth and wipe everything out for good, and just a few people got to escape into space before doomsday hit. 

I wonder about the other people in those kinds of stories. You know, the ones on the doomed Earth, the ones who have to watch the skies for the giant space rock that's coming for them. Are they scared? Angry? Do they rail at the sky, the universe, the people who left them behind? Is it better to not know what's coming, to be minding your own business?

I wasn't expecting it. At least not like this. It didn't make _sense_. It was _stupid_ and _pointless_ and in the days, weeks, _months_ afterward I would turn it over and over again in my head without ever making perfect sense of it. It was like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit--it was a little too big, or a little too small to fit. 

It would have been better, easier, if it had made sense. Or if Priton had just explained his reasoning to me, even, regardless of whether or not that reasoning was sound. 

Sleep was almost impossible that night. For me, it came in short bursts, only to be interrupted by an anxiety I couldn't pinpoint. I don't think Priton slept at all, though that wasn't that strange for him.

The clock next to our bed read seven a.m. when Priton got up. My body still felt sluggish from even that little sleep, but Priton moved through the familiar motions of getting dressed with practiced ease--morphing outfit. Jeans. T-shirt. He reached into the sock drawer before seeming to change his mind and instead dug out the flip flops that we hardly wore anymore, but which had still found their way with us from Cassie's barn to the Kings' house. He left our room, went across the hall to the bathroom. Ran a comb through my hair. Brushed my teeth. Then, for what must have been a full minute, Priton stood and stared at our reflection in the mirror.

<Priton?> He was blocking me--had been blocking me for what felt like ages now, but this felt different somehow. On a normal day, Priton's mind to me was like a leaky faucet with a slow drip--closed, but with pieces of emotion or a spare thought edging through. Right then, it was more like a locked safe. Even staring at our reflection in the mirror gave me very little. Resolve, maybe. <P?> I felt, saw a muscle twitch in my jaw, like he was going to say something--anything, even to just say he hated that nickname--but Priton didn't say anything. Finally, he turned away from the mirror, switched off the bathroom light, and left, heading for the stairs.

Erek was in the kitchen with the paper when we entered. "You're up early," he commented, glancing up at us before looking back at the newspaper.

Priton stood across the table, my hands gripping the back of one of the kitchen chairs a little too tightly. "Yeah," he said. "We're going out."

Something about his tone must have given Erek pause, because he looked up again, frowning now. When Priton didn't offer more information than that, he asked, "Oh yeah? Where?"

"McDonald's, I think."

"McDonald's," Erek repeated.

"That's the nearest entrance, isn't it?" I could feel my body shuddering, shaking in that uncomfortable, uncontrollable way. I didn't realize I was making it do that until it ceased abruptly. "I've never been from here."

It was hard to read Erek's expression. It was somewhere between confused and concerned. "Yes, I believe that's the closest Yeerk pool entrance. Why?"

"Steph will be back in a couple hours," Priton said, ignoring Erek's question. He let go of the kitchen chair, took a step back. "Goodbye, Erek."

If Erek replied, I didn't hear him. I was too busy worrying about the overwhelming crushing feeling that, if I'd been in actual control of my body at the moment, with all the appropriate physical cues, I might have realized was an oncoming panic attack.

<What the hell are you doing?> I demanded. <Priton!>

Priton paused, but only long enough to fish the spare house key from the bowl on the hall table near the door. Then we were out the front door, my legs carrying me unwillingly toward the familiar bus stop at the end of the road.

He was leaving. He was leaving and I didn't understand why.

I tried. I _tried_ to make him stop, to push back against his control. I don't know what I thought I could do--delay him, maybe. Force him to say _something,_ even out of frustration. But it didn't work--maybe Priton's resolve lent strength to his control, maybe I was just so out of practice with fighting him that it was like throwing a pillow at a brick wall and expecting to make a dent. I don't know. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference anyway. 

<Why? Why now? Are you insane?>

Priton didn't respond. 

<What about our deal?> I asked. <You're going to go back _now?_ Like _this_? For what? What are you even going to do?>

The bus came. Priton got on. He still didn't speak to me.

It wasn't a very long bus ride, but even so, it still felt like too little time. I wanted to be angry at him. I _was_ angry at him. He was being stupid and he wouldn't explain. I kept thinking about the morphing cube, stashed wherever Cassie had last hidden it, like maybe, somehow, he'd forgotten it was there. Because I couldn't understand. It was what he'd wanted to start with, wasn't it? Near as I could tell, anyway. Why leave without it?

Part of me--a small, stupid part--wondered if this was my fault somehow. If I'd done something wrong. Said something wrong. Felt something wrong. I could not, for the life of me, think of anything that I could have done that would make _this_ happen.

<What about the end of the war?> I asked as we were descending the bus stairs again. The McDonald's--the one that acted as one of the Yeerk Pool's entrances--was only a block or so away from the bus stop. <What about when we blow it up?> Even as I asked, I knew it was probably a moot point already. Too many variables had changed now--the Yeerks weren't just the enemy anymore. Some of them were friends. There was every chance things wouldn't go down at all like I knew they were supposed to. Or they'd at the very least happen drastically differently.

Not that it made any difference, one way or the other. It was like I hadn't said anything at all. 

Priton kept walking. From the bus stop to the front entrance of the McDonald's. From the entrance to the counter, where a bored teenager directed us back. From the counter to the walk-in freezer, with its secret door that slid open to reveal the horror show below. You could hear the screams from the top of the stairs. This got a reaction, at last, from Priton. It was like a full-body flinch, and for a second, I almost thought we were going to turn back. We would go home, and this would just be a moment of temporary insanity that we'd probably agree to never speak of again, like every other time we scraped too close to something sincere and vulnerable.

That's not what happened. This, at least, isn't a story that ends that way.

We descended the stairs. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest as the screams of the temporarily freed got closer and closer, but I couldn't say for sure who was making it do that. 

<Priton, _please. >_

We got in line for the drop off pier. It was still early, and in the middle of the week, a time when most people would be at work or school by now, so the line was far too short. It ended far too soon. 

When it was our turn, and Priton was kneeling down next to the murky sludge of the pool, I said, desperately, <You could at least say goodbye.>

Of course, he didn't.

* * *

It had been a very long time since I spent a feeding in the cages with the involuntary hosts. I hadn't meant to now, but once I was inside the cage, it felt right. It was fitting. I didn't want to be there. I wanted to be home, with Priton and the Chee and our dysfunctional household. I wanted to be _home,_ really home, with my family and my friends, with its uncertainty and its total lack of brain-stealing, heart-breaking aliens, and where I could still pretend sometimes that the world was always black and white. It wasn't, but sometimes I could still try and fool myself into pretending it was.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to feel nothing. I ended up somewhere in between, hugging my knees and closing my eyes, trying to drown out everything around me. If I felt nothing, maybe this would be easier. I'd like to say I was thinking ahead, that I was rationalizing that if Priton really wasn't coming back, I would have to climb out of here on my own. And maybe some part of my brain recognized that, maybe this painful empty feeling was just survival mode kicking in. 

I asked Priton once how it all worked, how Yeerks knew when to reinfest their hosts, or when there was a new host to infest. He told me there was usually some semblance of order with how hosts were shuffled back and forth--<It's a lot less chaotic and disorganized if you understand _Galard_.>\--and it was relatively rare that there wasn't time to "call" ahead when a new host was in line. And I guess Yeerks used their "sonar" to recognize their hosts. Unless there was an unusually huge screw up, you weren't likely to get the wrong Yeerk. Unless that Yeerk was trying to steal a host on purpose. Priton said that didn't really happen, but he said it in that way that he always did when he told me not to worry about things I really needed to worry about.

The Hork-Bajir guards eventually came for me. They dragged me back to the pool, dunked my head unceremoniously under, and I hoped. Just a little bit.

Priton didn't come back.

After a moment, I forced myself to go slack. _Relax,_ I reminded myself. _Survive. Get out._ The guards pulled me up, more gently this time, and I schooled my face into my best approximation of a disinterested Controller. It was easier than it should have been, and I prayed no one noticed how badly my legs shook as I walked back down the infestation pier. I tamped down on the urge to run, and kept walking, eyes focused straight ahead, until I reached the stairs again, and then I kept going.

It wasn't until I reached the top of the stairs and crossed back into the walk-in freezer that I let myself think at all. It hit me all at once, and I almost careened into a wall, trying to keep myself steady and upright, even as my breath came out like hyperventilating gasps. 

It was over. I didn't understand why, but it was over, and I was free, and now that I was out of immediate danger, I couldn't remember how my legs worked. I was going to cry. I was going to throw up. I was probably going to freeze to death in a McDonald's walk-in if I didn't move soon. Someone was bound to come along soon enough and wonder what I was doing in there.

Somehow, I forced myself to stand up straight, to school my features back into something resembling calm, and I left the freezer. I kept walking, without a backward glance, past the teenager at the register, and kept going until I reached the exit.

He was waiting for me outside.

"There you are," Erek said, standing up from the bench he'd been waiting on for God knows how long.

"What are you doing here?" He should have been in school, should have been keeping up appearances. Instead he was here, waiting for me in the McDonald's parking lot, looking like that was the only place he ought to be.

Erek considered me for a long second. He must have seen whatever he was looking for in my expression because he said, "You shouldn't be alone." Then he held out his hand. I took it without thinking, and he started pulling me towards the street. "Come on, we're going to be late."

"Late for what?" Erek didn't head for the bus stop to take us home. Instead, he headed across the street, towing me along behind him. "Where are we going?"

Erek pointed in the direction we were heading, and I could see the sign for a diner coming into view. "We can still get there before they stop serving breakfast."

"But--" _I just want to go home._

"Humor me, okay?"

I didn't have the energy to argue.

We entered the diner. A waitress passed by and told us to take a seat anywhere we wanted and I let Erek lead me to a booth by the windows. 

The waitress reappeared before I could figure out what to ask next. Erek leaned forward and said, "I don't need anything, but she'll have the oatmeal. You like the maple flavor, right?" Erek asked me.

"I--yeah. Maple's good." The waitress left again, and I just stared at Erek, feeling very stupid and very tired. "I think it's only the instant stuff that's supposed to be bad."

"I know, I just figured this was quicker. We can always buy some later." He leaned back, still looking at me with what I realized was a concerned expression. 

I started unrolling my napkin, mostly for something to do. "You think I'm crazy," I guessed.

"Yes." When I looked back up at Erek, he was smiling slightly. "But no more than usual." Then, after a moment's hesitation, he reached out and patted my hand in what I thought was probably supposed to be a comforting gesture.

There, there. It's going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only ever read the first _Remnants_ book, and honestly not a lot has stuck with me about it except for minor tidbits, but I did say I wanted to make a reference to it in Going Back, so here it is.
> 
> The hardest part of writing Going Back is trying to work around long-established story beats. Sometimes it's just not possible and I have to cut things out. Sometimes something is so entrenched that removing it would basically change the entire story from that point forward. As it is, I already have subplots I need to find a way to make less stupid for the sake of actually good stuff that's tied up in it. The final arc is going to be a nightmare for me to write, pray for me.
> 
> As it stands, the "Priton leaves part way through the series" plot point is the oldest thing in Going Back. Arguably, it's older than Going Back as a concept, because I have writing from circa 1999 that references it, long before there was an ending to "fix." To change it now would be to write an entirely different story. Priton is making a mistake. Objectively, this is the dumbest thing he does--all the other top contenders are direct results of this one stupid decision--and really the hardest part of this is self-inflicted: we don't see it from Priton's perspective, we see it from GB!Steph's, and GB!Steph doesn't get to know his reasoning. Not for the moment, anyway. 
> 
> #31 has, for at least 18 years now, been the unofficial line of demarcation in Going Back. It's the end of Act I, so to speak. We're more or less half-way through. We might actually be done by 2021 at this rate. My new goal is to write the last chapter before the 20th anniversary of when I finished the last book. I've got until May 20, 2021. Anyway, on that note: Stay tuned next for Going Back's shortest part. An intermission, if you will.
> 
> You can yell at me on [tumblr](http://jewlikeruth.tumblr.com/). Or just talk. Please don't really yell at me.


End file.
